


up all night (cause you got me haunted, baby)

by onnari



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Ghosts, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onnari/pseuds/onnari
Summary: A series of nights Tifa gets no sleep thanks to Aerith (and ghosts).
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 30
Kudos: 222





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All blame goes to everything chapter eleven of the remake chose to be. Shout out to Chelsea for general support and enabling.

Tifa’s just locking up Seventh Heaven for the night when she hears it. Can actually pinpoint the shriek of distress. And Tifa knows Johnny’s a dumbass who probably half-deserves what’s coming to him, but she’s also never been the type to turn her back on someone. Even when she’s half-dead on her feet and can only think of a good shower.

It’s quick work to track him down at least, his shouts only coming louder and quicker, and really, someone probably should have called for help by the time she’s found him in an alley, tearing at his hair and looking—well, like he’s seen a ghost. 

But Tifa won’t put that together until later.

She’s too busy taking in the scene Johnny’s making, bare-chested in late fall like he’s allergic to shirts or something and so startled by something behind him that he runs straight into a wall. He falls to the ground with a loud thump, rolling back and forth across the alley as he cradles his bloody nose.

Tifa is, momentarily, speechless. Then a crash comes from the far side of the alleyway. Two guys in suits clearly up to no good,saunter into view and words are the last thing on her mind as she pivots into a fighting stance, as seamless as breathing.

Johnny tries to get back up to his feet, trips, and Tifa sighs, breaking good form to haul him off his feet and into a nearby dumpster. “You just—” his head comes poking back out and she redoubles her efforts to seal the dumpster off, “hide in there, okay? I’ll have this taken care of in a second.” 

When he still tries to fumble back out, she might accidentally slam the lid down on him, hard, but it works. With a wince she watches him slump down into the trash. 

The sound of footsteps have her reeling back around—a young woman around her age running up the alley the same way Tifa had come: lithe, distractingly pretty, and decked out in all pink. The woman freezes, pulls an ugly look at the men further down, and Tifa steps between them by instinct.

“Did you really think you could just run from us, Aerith?” 

“Took you long enough to catch up,” she taunts back, raising a fist.

“Better head back the way you came,” Tifa warns the men, but they only pause, both a couple of characters. The bald one adjusts his shades, though how he can even see out of them at this time of night is beyond her power of reasoning. 

The redhead, clearly with his own agenda against shirts, stands akimbo. Even amused. “Pretty sure that’s my line. This is a personal matter, you see.”

Tifa turns her head away only slightly, just so she can briefly meet the woman’s eyes. “Go. I’ll handle them.”

Aerith only leans in closer. Her hand grazes Tifa’s bicep. Lingers. If Tifa shivers, it’s just because of the night growing steadily colder and nothing to do with the smile that lifts the corner of Aerith’s mouth. “And just leave you here to handle my business? No way.”

They don’t get a chance to argue the point. The suits begin to close the distance between them and instinct kicks in for Tifa. The redhead is the one who charges, the other hanging back. He’s fast, but Tifa’s quicker, and she draws him out, farther from his partner.

He gets one good hit to her side, his weapon half a taser, and she stutters back from the shock of it, but he gets cocky then, and she ducks his next swipe, rising to meet his middle with a punch that leaves him gasping. A roundhouse kick knocks his weapon free, and then he’s on the ground, groaning.

She brushes her hands off, eyeing the second man. Waits for him to make his reluctant move as he stands there, saying nothing. 

But Aerith is not so silent behind her, murmuring something under her breath, maybe even names, all reeled off in quick succession. A call to someone, but Tifa can’t quite make out to whom.

Her first clue is when the street lights start to flicker faster and then there’s a purple haze descending, something unseen in the air around her that has the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge. Tifa could swear she hears voices speaking back to Aerith, but it’s all just a murmur, unsettling and terrifying.

“Wha—what?” Tifa asks as the redhead sprawled out on the floor suddenly gets lifted up by his ankle, some force spinning him around before flinging him over the wall and out of sight. 

The other man goes flying just as quickly, knocked from one wall of the alley to the other and then dragged into the shadows, his shades clattering across the ground. 

But whatever attacked them is not gone. Tifa can still sense it somehow, taking several nervous steps back before resuming a shaky fighting stance. 

Whatever it is easily knocks her aside before the Aerith shouts an indignant “hey!” She hasn’t budged an inch, her voice only growing louder as she adds, “Behave!” Tifa is behind her before she knows how she’s really gotten there, clinging to her arm.

“You don’t have to worry,” Aerith reassures her. “They’re just ghosts.”

If you’d asked Tifa thirty minutes ago, she’d have firmly been in the camp that ghosts absolutely did not exist. Both for her own peace of mind and because science and logic is a thing. She lives in reality, always the practical type. 

Now, well, she doesn’t exactly have a good counterargument to make.

“Okay, but you know that’s not exactly reassuring, right?” Tifa manages, stepping even closer to the woman as another apparent ghost brushes up against her.

“They’re friendly, I swear. I’m the one who called them out, needing backup. I just need to walk them back to the graveyard round the way and I’ll get them settled back down.” She waves at the open air, telling it not to dawdle as she sets out, but Tifa does not loosen her grip, trailing nervously behind.

“So you can... see them?” Tifa whispers, squinting out into the darkness. It’s like there’s just the hint of something hovering in the periphery of her vision, but no matter how fast she turns her head, she can’t quite land her gaze on it.

“Sure.” Aerith’s voice lowers, confiding. “A few are easier on the eyes than others, but none of them are actually worth being scared over.”

But when the lights ahead flicker, the nearest going out entirely, a shudder like a cold breath runs down Tifa’s spine. 

“Stop messing with the lights!” Aerith yells, as they nearly trip over the curb, and the light flares back to life.

“And communicate with them?” Tifa says. “How?”

Aerith shrugs. “Well, they did practically raise me. It would probably be weirder if I couldn’t. Sometimes they get a bit unruly, but it’s not anything I can’t handle.”

Tifa is not sure she wants to know what being raised by ghosts exactly entails. “And those guys from before?” she asks instead, looking over her shoulder.

“Some people would do just about anything to be able to mess with the dead. Including going through me. But they forget I have them on my side to mess with them back.” Aerith grins, green eyes crinkling, and Tifa suddenly realizes just how close they are, nerves of a different kind taking hold of her. Her grips slackens and Aerith breaks away first, running ahead as they come up to a cemetery's entrance. “And here we are. Give me a boost will you?”

So Tifa does, kneeling to hoist Aerith over the metal gate. Her landing isn’t graceful, but she’s back on her feet in a second, brushing her skirt off. “I’ll take it from here,” she says. “Thanks for the assist tonight.” 

She leans up against the gate’s metal bars, close enough again to brush a kiss to Tifa’s cheek before she even knows what’s happening. Tifa’s hand rises unconsciously to the spot, her skin warming over in spite of the cold night.

Aerith reaches into her pocket and pulls out a card. Places it into Tifa’s hand. “If you ever encounter a ghost on your own and think you could use a hand.”

There’s a flash of something else ahead in the graveyard, but Tifa has no clue what it could be, her eyes following Aerith until she fades from view. By then there’s nothing else to be seen, nothing but the small piece of paper she’s holding tightly.

Aerith Gainsborough, Spirit Guide, it reads. Below, a phone number. 

Tifa turns it over and over in her hand the entire way home, staring down at the card every moment she’s not warily looking down alleyways and jumping at any sudden noise. It sees her all the way to her apartment complex, her heart rate still racing, before she stops dead in her tracks and slams a palm to her forehead.

Oh shit. Johnny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m Johnny, unconscious in a dumpster & a mere contrivance to bring Aerith and Tifa together.


	2. Chapter 2

Tifa still has the card on her when she’s at the bar the next day, flipping it over in her hand.

“A Spirit Guide?” Cloud asks, catching sight of the words. “What’s that?”

Tifa goes still, laying the card down flat. It’s still daylight out, and last night should feel far enough away for her to move past it, maybe make a joke or two. But she’s running on fumes, having got no sleep after having to backtrack to free Johnny and lug him back to his freaked out parents. By the time she’d consoled them and made it back home, the sun was already rising and she had other things to do. Owning a new bar—having something all her own—didn’t take care of itself, as exciting as it was.

She pulls a face. “Well, I know how it sounds but like—someone whose job it is to deal with spirits and ghosts?”

“Not a job,” Cloud says, to the point.

“Sounds like someone trying to pull one over on you, Tifa,” Barret warns, walking out from the back. “Not like you to get taken in by something like that.” 

“Well, normally I’d agree,” Tifa says, unable to shake the edge in her voice. “But last night, closing up, I think I actually had an encounter. With ghosts, I mean.”

“Ghosts?” Wedge repeats from a table over and Marlene tenses at Barret’s side.

“Hey now,” Barret cuts in, pulling Marlene in closer. “Don’t be putting thoughts like that in my girl’s head.”

And seeing Marlene’s look of panic, Tifa’s prepared to keep quiet. But Jessie slides up right in front of her, voice low. “Okay, but you can’t just say that and not give us the rest of the story.”

So Barret gets Marlene settled with one of her favorite picture books that they keep a copy of at the bar, and Tifa relays her tale. 

Barret waves his arm through the air. “Some kind of trick of the light or something. I’m telling you you’re getting played.”

“Ask Johnny if you want. He was also there.”

“Yeah, not exactly a way to build up credibility for your story,” Jessie replies. “Sorry, Tifa.”

Tifa sighs. “I know it sounds crazy, but....”

“Something happened at least,” Cloud says. “Maybe not ghosts, but you’re not crazy.”

Biggs taps the card. “And it probably couldn’t hurt to have this on hand.” Tifa shoots him a grateful smile and the next time she’s over at the register she tacks the card alongside various other community notices and posters. 

There it stays, creased and pushed to the side and tacked over, until someone will spot it and bring it up again. Tifa grows a bit of a reputation of a ghost enthusiast, exchanging her tale with others, wondering if anyone has a story similar to her own. But really, when it comes right down to it, it’s not the ghosts she’s after. She could do well enough without them. It’s a certain spirit guide she’s curious about, looking to see if anyone has also met her.

The other details of that night are beginning to fade, but not Aerith and her larger than life presence, her eyes and her smile.

Tifa knows she has more important things to focus on, trying to get out of the red as a new and young business owner, but she can’t fault herself for indulging in a bit of a daydream to get through the long hours. And it’s just that, a daydream, because she never once considers pulling up that card and calling or texting out of the blue.

In the end, maybe she’s the one who inadvertently invites the ghosts in, looking for some kind of excuse. But all she knows is she’s staring at a woman in a pink coat across the bar late one night, thinking idly of Aerith again, when the lights begin to flicker, a jarring buzz of electricity. 

“Storm outside?” Barret asks, his voice cutting through the tension.

Tifa’s already going to check when the air changes, temperature plummeting as a purple tint clouds her vision, and she goes dead still.

The bar’s patrons do not, customers running as furniture begins to move on its own. In the corner, the jukebox skips tracks and gets stuck in a terrible, grating loop. The screams start then, and Tifa can feel something brushing by her as the liquor bottles begin to clink together on their shelves. 

It takes her nearly a minute of watching the chaos unfold to remember Aerith’s card and another to dig it out, punching in the numbers. Around her there’s a growing murmur, indistinct words rolling through the air. Three rings go by, Tifa’s heart in her throat, before the call goes through. A crinkle of static and then a woman’s voice, bright, and Tifa is back to weeks ago, encountering it for the first time.

“Hello? Aerith Gainsborough, spirit guide.”

Tifa can actually picture her. She swallows. “So if someone’s place of business was being overrun by ghosts, what would you say would be the signs?"

That does give Aerith pause. "...Are you in trouble? Right now?"

"That depends. Do strange garbled voices and furniture being tossed around mean we’re in peril?"

"Where are you?"

"Seventh Heaven, the bar in Sector 7? This is Tifa. We met one night, a month or so ago? There were a couple people after you and then—" 

"I remember you," Aerith smoothly cuts in, and really, it is not the time for Tifa to be flattered or maybe even blushing. "I'll be right there. Just keep calm. Don't do anything to antagonize them."

Which turns out to be way easier said than done with Barret in the room, grabbing ahold of a barstool to bat the invisible spirits away. “Barret, no, I called for help! That girl from before,” Tifa shouts, but he’s not on a mission to listen.

Tifa and Cloud fall back to just trying to get him to stop, patrons still ducking around his swings while Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie try to calmly lead the others out of the bar.

“I think I got one of these damn things,” Barret shouts, banging the stool into the wall and knocking more than one photo off the wall. But for all his bravado, he gets pushed back, nearly falling flat on his ass. He sends a nervous glance back to both Cloud and Tifa that they send right back. 

Most of the stragglers are out when the doors burst wide open and Aerith jogs right in, all in pink again. Dead center in the bar she stops, hands on her hips as she swivels around to take in the full scene. “Okay guys,” she calls out to thin air. “Really? What the fuck?”

For all that it seems like an entirely one-sided conversation, the bar does settle down, everything settling back to the ground until it’s only the jukebox that’s still acting up.

“What the fuck is going on?” Barret demands. “Who are you?”

“Aerith, spirit guide,” Aerith introduces simply, and everyone swivels to look at Tifa at that, piecing together her old story.

“So why the hell are your ghosts here?” Barret asks, losing no ground, ghosts or no.

Aerith puts a hand up to her forehead and then turns to him with a sheepish smile. “Well, from what they’re saying… they came for a night out, believe it or not.”

“But… they’re dead?” Cloud says, warily looking around.

“Hey,” Aerith objects, “fun isn’t just for the living.”

Wedge backs up against the wall, only to brush up against another ghost, yelling. “And does their fun include killing us?”

“If they wanted to kill you, don’t you think they’d have done that by now. They’re just really embarrassingly sentimental and looking for a good time. .” 

“So…” Tifa says, and takes a step and then another, creeping closer to her and the confidence she radiates. “What should we do?”

“Well, if you’re not opposed, I’d recommend just giving them the night they’re after.”

“Do I just… what? Cook something? Pour out some rounds?”

"Good call,” Aerith says. “Ghosts like eating and drinking."

Tifa hesitates. "But can they, you know, eat and drink?"

Aerith waves a hand. “Minor details. Doesn’t matter so long as they think they are.”

So Tifa gets a round of shots going, and Barret works on the jukebox, his playlist mostly oldies that he sings off-key to and that has the ghosts so hyped up the walls begin to shake and another picture frame falls off the wall. “If they want a party,” he says, “might as well give them a real damn one.” Jessie gets the closest to joining the fray, but even she keeps a respectful distance.

The biggest hit of the night comes near its end when Barret cues up the only slightly ironic choice of I Wanna Dance with Somebody, Aerith jumping up in appreciation across the room.

“At least they’re ghosts of good taste,” Barret murmurs over his shot glass, somehow chill about the whole thing now even as Tifa still nervously circles the room, so on edge that she misses Aerith dancing over to her until she’s right there in front of her.

“Hey,” Aerith says with an easy grin and extends her hand. “Tifa? Wanna dance?”

Tifa does a double take, sure she’s heard her wrong. “What?”

“I mean, why be off to the sides when you could be dancing to this song?”

“Uh, sure,” Tifa says, because it’s easier to do just what she wants without overthinking things this late at night and in the most surreal situation she can think of. Aerith leads her out immediately, right up in her space and so close that Tifa can feel the actual heat of Aerith’s body and then the actual press of it as Aerith’s hands move up Tifa’s arms and cross behind Tifa’s neck. 

It’s enough to distract Tifa from all that’s going on around them, especially when Aerith starts singing along to more lines than not, breathy catches of words that Tifa can’t help echoing and have her shivering when Aerith mouths them by her ear. Tifa’s hands slip to Aerith’s hips, and she rewards Tifa with dropping her own to Tifa’s waist, skin on skin in a way that leaves Tifa’s body burning long after the song comes to a close, the both of them reluctant to pull apart.

Tifa wants to say the room is subdued afterwards, nothing compared to the feeling coursing through her, but it seems like it’s not just her. There are no more glasses clinking at the bar, no picture frames rattling. Those who had stuck around—Biggs, Wedge, Cloud, and even Jessie—slumped off to the side as the sky begins to lighten outside.

“All right, everyone,” Aerith says to the ghostly crowd after two more songs. “We’ve had our fun. Time to head out.” She turns to the Seven Heaven crew. “Thanks for throwing a good party.”

And the strangest thing in a series of strange events happens. When the doors open one last time Tifa is looking in the right place and right time and can just glimpse the faint outline of people making their way out.

She shakes her head to find Aerith staring back at her, thoughtful. “You can see them, huh?”

“Yeah, I think,” Tifa says, pushing down a new swell of panic. “Just a bit, just now.” 

“You must know death in some way.” Aerith smiles, soft but a little sad, and Tifa’s heart actually aches. For herself and for Aerith too and the pull between them. “It helps though, knowing we still have some connection to them, don’t you think?”

It’s a lot to think of, just then, at the end of the night and with this woman looking at her in a way Tifa could almost call tender, making her blood race. No words come. Not yet at least.

Aerith slips closer, presses another kiss on Tifa’s cheek before she’s on her way again. “Thanks for the call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a bit to land on a song here so now I'm curious: if you could pick one song for Tifa and Aerith to dance to, what are you going for?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some concluding ridiculousness, featuring a trope I find to be somewhat underappreciated. Bets up front.

It’s harder having Aerith’s number on her phone and not using it. In a rush Tifa programs it as a new contact but that just becomes the new thing she stares at, everyone quick to catch on and tease her for it.

“Be sure to properly thank your ghost girlfriend for us,” Jessie says with a wink.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tifa replies, just to set the record straight, a little more wistful than she probably should be, but at least there’s no more disputing the whole ghost part of things after the night they’d all shared. She was hardly the only one to have caught a glimpse of them.

It’s a sobering thought, even with Tifa already knowing the people she’s rebuilt her life alongside have similarly been shaped by loss. But it hits differently when you’re just sitting around, talking about the actual ghosts you’d all witnessed.

“Not sure it’s a good or bad thing, to be able to see them,” Biggs says, and Tifa can see Cloud go hesitant, conflicted as well. 

Barret knows his own mind more, as usual. “Gotta be tough though to see them all the time.”

And there’s the worry Tifa can’t shake, thinking of Aerith out there in the middle of the night, danger tailing her and with only ghosts for company.

She slows her walks back home after closing up the bar, looking down alleys for any trace of her. Walks past the graveyard they’d first parted ways at, but nothing comes of it until she makes herself linger, on edge at every sound as she waits outside the gate. It’s a little pathetic, but she’d feel more embarrassed texting or calling just to—what? Ask if she’s around? That she’s okay? What would she even say?

But the fifth night outside the cemetery Aerith finally shows. She pauses in the streetlight, face slack with surprise and then bright with a smile. Tifa’s heartbeat picks up.

“What are you doing out here?” Aerith says, looking round. “Any more ghost trouble?”

“Just heading home for the night.” Tifa looks around, too. “Any trouble yourself?”

Aerith laughs. “Just a couple spirits throwing a tantrum. Came back to get their parents.” Which is how Tifa spends the next hour clutching nervously at Aerith as a chorus of ghastly wails gradually taper off. But then, sure enough, once the spirits settle down, she swears she can see two small kids fading out of view.

“I work late,” Tifa says, outside the graveyard again, the night ending soon. “So let me know if you ever need any help.”

“Sure,” Aerith says with a smile, but she doesn’t ever call. And maybe Tifa should leave it at that, but she can’t, adding an extra loop around on her way home. 

Finally she breaks down, grabs her phone in the middle of a busy night at the bar and texts, _I should have known you had things taken care of. But if you ever want company instead..._

She doesn’t get back to her phone for a half an hour and when she does, she bites down on her lip. _Well I’m in your neighborhood tonight..._

They meet a few streets over from the bar and nothing much happens, Tifa just tagging along as Aerith walks around to settle a ghost down, but even then she can never actually keep her heart rate down, always on edge around ghosts.

Aerith laughs when Tifa jumps at the ghost brushing by her. “You know you don’t have to stick around when you’re scared."

“Someone’s gotta look out for you, walking these streets at night.” The garbage cans at the end of the street clatter, rolling out into the street, and Tifa grabs for Aerith’s arm by instinct. “Someone alive, I mean.”

Aerith doesn’t look at her directly, not exactly, but there’s a kind of look in her eyes as she curls a hand over Tifa’s. Squeezes it and then pulls it down, the two of them briefly holding hands. “Okay.”

Tifa doesn’t even have a chance to screw things up the next day because she has an actual foolproof reason to call Aerith up. When it’s time for work she floats more than walks down her apartment hallway, something grabbing at her through the air. The doors and windows of Seventh Heaven open and close as she approaches, the register going haywire when she tries to load it up.

“So the thing is,” she whispers, huddling in the corner of the kitchen, “I think _I’m_ being haunted.”

“I’ll be right there,” Aerith promises. But when she arrives her face goes red, and she mouths “fuck,” almost like an apology.

“Is it bad?” Tifa asks, teeth on edge. 

“I’ll fix it,” Aerith says.

But the thing is, no matter how much more Aerith begins coming by, answering Tifa’s texts as she closes up the bar, the two of them meeting up, the ghost doesn’t move on.

It would be a stretch to say Tifa gets used to it. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be completely settled around dead spirits, but the trade off is too good for her to really complain, having such an easy excuse to be near Aerith at any given moment.

“So you’re literally being haunted by a ghost,” Jessie sums up, “and you’re just like, yeah, whatever, cause it means you get to spend more time with your crush?” 

“Harsh, but fair,” Wedge decides.

Tifa moves away, swiping at a stubborn stain on the bar, a hopeless, kind of inarticulate sound escaping her. “I know, okay? I’m working on it.”

“There a plan?” Cloud wants to know as the register suddenly opens itself up, spitting out coins.

Tifa bites her lip, slamming the register closed before more money can go flying out. “Well…”

“Life’s too short,” Barret cuts in. “You just gotta go for it, guns blazing.” 

Biggs nods. “And no better reminder when dead spirits are after you.”

And it’s not like he doesn’t have a point. So she stops Aerith when she makes to leave the next time they’re together and says, “Let me walk you home.”

Aerith has no quick response to that, eyes flickering over to the air beside them. “I already got you haunted. Maybe you should be keeping more of a distance. Spending more time together might have been a mistake.”

The ghost doesn’t seem to like that much though, the chain fence next to them rattling ominously, and Tifa likes it even less, gripping Aerith’s hand tight as she ducks for cover behind her.

“You didn’t get me haunted,” Tifa protests at her back, ignoring how Aerith shakes her head. “Besides, I want to.”

She takes Aerith’s hand, quick, and Aerith relents, leading the way. It’s a long way over, out to another neighborhood, but Tifa doesn’t drop Aerith’s hand once. Not even when Aerith’s home makes her breath catch—an actual graveyard, tucked away and overrun by flowers. 

“You live here?” Tifa asks, more shakily than she means to. “In a graveyard?”

Aerith smiles. “I told you I was raised by ghosts.”

Up a ways is a house, overlooking the cemetery and lit from within, glowing bright and inviting. That’s where Aerith takes them, announcing herself with a brief knock against the door frame.

“I’m back,” Aerith says to the older woman inside. “So you can stop worrying and go to sleep.”

“I’m allowed to be worried,” the woman says and then looks over to Tifa.

“My mother, Elmyra,” Aerith explains. “Mom, this is Tifa.”

“Oh, the one you mentioned,” Elmyra says in a way that makes both Aerith and Tifa blush. “Thank you for looking after my daughter,” she adds, all sincerity. “Have some tea. The both of you.” 

They don’t stay long, just long enough for Tifa to glance around the cozy home, pictures of a younger Aerith smiling back at her. 

Gathering up their cups, Elmyra asks Aerith, “You’re still going to stay up, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Aerith answers and playfully shoos her mother up the stairs. “At least one of us should get some sleep.” 

“Good meeting you, Tifa,” Elmyra calls as she’s forced to retreat. “I hope to see you around again soon.”

Tifa ducks her head. “I hope so too.”

Neither of them say a word as Tifa follows Aerith back out, something fraught in the air that has nothing to do with the ghosts who must be about. Aerith leads them off the path, settling down in a high outlook covered in flowers. 

Above, no stars show, the city’s light pollution too fierce, but the moon is bright enough to make up for it, large and looming and lighting up the entire cemetery and all its cascades of flowers dancing in the breeze. There’s a peace here she never thought cemeteries could have.

Tifa closes her eyes for a moment, breathing it in. “No wonder you always smell like flowers, hanging out here.”

It’s just as she wishes that she could be closer to Aerith that a force nudges her to the left, closing the distance between them. Tifa shivers from head to toe, trying not to wonder how many of these flowers are really moving in the breeze and how many are actually being stirred by ghosts. Again, Tifa moves towards Aerith, this time instinctively, no need for another push.

Aerith looks over Tifa’s shoulder, blushing. “Not now,” she pleads, waving the ghost off. “Leave her be.”

But Tifa’s more focused on Aerith than anything. Her ease, as always, with something that seems so much larger than them both. “Do you ever find it weird to just—hang out with ghosts like this?”

Aerith’s attention falls back to Tifa. She shakes her head. “I’ve always known them. Always been able to see and speak with them. It would be weirder not to for me. They have a lot to say, a lot to share. And they’re always looking out for me.”

“Good,” Tifa says and tired and cold, she lays down, wondering if she dares to move closer still to Aerith’s warmth. She doesn’t have to make the decision herself. When the ghost makes contact again it’s so sudden and unexpected that Tifa lands half on top of her. 

But Aerith’s eyes aren’t even on her. “ _Mom_ , please,” she whines, “just get out of here already!”

Tifa freezes. “Your mom? She’s out here?”

“No, not that one. My dead one.” She almost laughs at Tifa’s look of confusion. “My dead birth mother, I mean.”

Tifa’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“Well, uh, she may be the ghost who’s been haunting you.”

“What?” Tifa repeats dumbly, a flash of panic racing through her. “Your mother? Why?”

“She—” Aerith swallows, almost meeting Tifa’s eye, “um, seems to really like you, and I guess she’d like me to be around the living more. Sorry, I should have told you sooner, but turned out I was enjoying the company, so.”

Tifa’s not really sure what the protocol is when both your crush’s living and dead mom give you a sign of their approval, so she decides to just not move from where she is. Seems the safer thing, to sink back down, curling up at Aerith’s collarbone. 

“Oh. Can you tell her,” she considers, “thank you?”

“Absolutely not. You are not thanking her for haunting you,” Aerith says firmly, holding her closer, her hands slipping into Tifa’s hair. “It doesn’t exactly help us set good boundaries for the future, does it?”

Tifa trembles from the effort to be still. From the thought that this could be just a beginning. 

But even thinking of the future, there’s always the past for Tifa too. “Hey,” she says quietly, “do you think… my own parents could just be wandering around as ghosts?”

“Maybe,” Aerith says thoughtfully. “It depends how settled they feel. If they have some unfinished business. Even then, they may get restless and want to check in.”

Tifa presses her lips tightly together. “And if they do? Do you think I could ever reach out to them?”

Aerith angles her head back, enough to catch Tifa’s eyes. “I can help you, if you want to.”

Tifa nods. “I think I should.”

“Okay,” Aerith says, simple and easy, full of so much surprising life even surrounded by so much death. “Then we will.” 

“Thanks,” she murmurs into Aerith’s shoulder, laying there as Aerith’s hands weave small braids through Tifa’s hair. And if Tifa shivers, she pretends it’s just from the cold or the stray ghost.

“You sure you don’t want to head back? You don’t have to stay,” Aerith murmurs at the crown of Tifa’s head.

“I’m good.”

But eventually the moon gets obscured in clouds and it gets so cold that Tifa actually can’t stop shaking. 

“Come on,” Aerith says, nudging her up and towards a small shack. “There’s a blanket I keep out here with the gardening supplies.” 

They both step inside, a close fit, making Aerith’s search harder, and she isn’t even able to pull it free before the door slams shut behind them, leaving them in pitch blackness. “Very funny, mom!” Aerith shouts, more annoyed than worried even after she spends a full minute trying to pry the door open without any success.

Tifa takes over, but even she can’t get it to budge and eventually admits defeat.

Aerith huffs, embarrassed, and makes one more pass at the door. But Tifa is still there and she only manages to press up against her, trapping them both in the entranceway. Aerith goes quiet. Still. Just looking back at her as their eyes adjust more to the darkness.

“Aerith?” Tifa breathes. Swears she can see Aerith’s eyes dip down to her mouth.

Aerith leans closer until her lips brush Tifa’s cheek again. Then just the corner of her mouth when she whispers back, “Yeah?”

Tifa can’t hold back any longer. Lets her hands rise on their own, taking hold of Aerith’s face and bringing their lips together. Aerith makes a pleased sound, fingers digging into the muscles of Tifa’s back and shoulders as she pulls herself closer and closer until Tifa shifts them against the door for support, leveraging an arm against it.

Aerith hums, hand falling to Tifa’s ass, gripping tight enough to make Tifa gasp and deepen the kiss until they’re flush against each other. Until the most natural thing in the world is to slot her thigh in between Aerith’s legs, giving her something to work herself up against, and Aerith takes advantage, biting and sucking down the line of Tifa’s throat until Tifa feels like she’s the one off balance, even as Aerith rocks herself against her.

“So this is happening? Here?” Aerith laughs, lips pressed to Tifa’s skin.

“I guess so,” Tifa says, hardly able to believe it herself, but not wanting to stop and second guess things for once, coming this far already.

Aerith grips Tifa’s arms to steady herself and leaves them there, appreciative, in a way that makes Tifa shiver even as she hoists Aerith higher so that her feet clear the ground.

“Been hoping you’d do that,” Aerith says, capturing her mouth for another kiss.Her legs come around Tifa’s hips as natural as anything, her hands squeezing Tifa’s biceps. She grins when she feels them flex in turn.

But the angle is wrong now, none of the pressure there from before, and frustration flashes across Aerith’s face before she captures one of Tifa’s hands, bringing it straight to where she needs it most. Tifa thumbs her clit through the dress until even she needs more, rucking Aerith’s skirt up to her hips so she can get her hands on her properly. 

“Yeah, like that,” Aerith says, head falling back against the door. But her hands move again, dipping underneath Tifa’s shirt and then around to her breasts, pulling her bra down to graze at her nipples in a way that makes Tifa double down on her own efforts, working Aerith up to her release.

None of it is careful or coordinated, just a frenetic affirmation that somehow they’re here of all places, together and so very alive. 

When Aerith comes, she muffles the sound, high and breathy against Tifa’s shoulder. She drags Tifa into a shaky kiss before she’s even regained her breath, and Tifa gets lost in the feeling, hardly knowing how Aerith ends up back on her feet, how she ends up half perched on the one worktable. But she savors the feeling of Aerith’s hands on her thighs, the way she drags her leggings down, removing every barrier between them so Aerith can kiss her way up to Tifa’s heat. 

Tifa really forgets everything else then, grasping at Aerith’s hair as she works Tifa up with one finger, then two, sucking open-mouthed kisses into the crease of her leg until she’s also coming, a swallowed murmur of Aerith’s name that Aerith steals back from her with another heady kiss. 

Afterwards, it’s quiet except for their quick breaths and the sound of the wind brushing up against the shack and that’s when their laughter comes, a little shy but soft, like a welcome rainfall. Tifa brings Aerith closer, wanting her warmth even when Aerith finally unearths the blanket and wraps it around them both. 

When they try the door again, it gives easily. “Of course,” Aerith says, enough moonlight seeping in to show the color on her cheeks, but she looks determined, all the same. “I promise I’ll be lecturing my mom on boundaries as soon as you’re gone.”

Tifa hesitates in the doorway. “I’m in no hurry,” she says and drags Aerith back inside again for one more kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have at least one more aerti idea, but I'll have to see if I can make something of it. For now, just want to say thanks to anyone who's taken the time to read and especially given any feedback to help keep my motivation up. You can catch me on tumblr as onnari as well.


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